Another Few Days 2
by sarapals with past50
Summary: The first follow-up to A Few Days, when Grissom and Sara first met. Grissom returns to visit Sara in San Francisco and takes her out of town. All Fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Another Few Days Chapter 1**

"I need birth control." Sara's statement made her roommate sit up from her usual reclining position on the sofa.

"What? What?" Paula's green eyes flashed open, her book flipped to the floor. "All night you kept that smirk on your face! I knew it, I knew it! I knew something had gone on!" She was up and walking circles around Sara, who broadened her smile and gave a slight nod. "You disappeared all day, then managed to keep this secret all shift! Even after I asked where you had been all day—you are so—I do not know how to describe it!"

By now Sara was laughing. Her roommate's words streamed out. "How can you keep so quiet? How long has it been? Years, I know. Did you really take this guy to bed? His hotel room? I should have known." She flopped back on the sofa. "Did you? Oh, gawd, girl, did you use birth control? Did you practice safe sex? You don't even know this guy. He may have a wife and five daughters back home!" Her voice went from a shriek to a whisper.

Sara folded her legs under her, kept the smile on her face and watched her roommate's hysterics continue as she made another circuit around the room.

"Tell me! You know how excited I get. And to think, I was feeling sorry for you cause you were out there with this old guy. How old is he? And just what did he do that caused you to give up the sweet stuff?" Paula stopped in front of Sara, squinting her eyes into narrow slits. "Necklace—that is new. Did he buy that? I should have known this hours ago! Okay, tell me," she sat on the edge of the sofa. "Everything!" She slapped her hand to her forehead. "I should have guessed this." Before Sara could say a word, she was back on her feet. "Don't tell me you need—like massive birth control pills? You know that works as a morning after? Tell me, please, you used a condom."

By the end of this tirade of words, Sara was laughing enough to have tears in her eyes. "If you will be quiet for two minutes, I'll tell you—at least what I want you to hear."

"Wait," Paula got up again, "I need a beer to hear this." She brought two bottles from the refrigerator. Katie Couric and Matt Lauer were talking on the television as they swallowed their first mouthful.

"Tell." Paula demanded as she upended the bottle. "I can take anything with a beer before eight in the morning!"

Sara's eyes rolled as she sat the bottle on the floor, her fingers went to the necklace. "Yes, he gave me the necklace. Yes, we spent the best part of yesterday together, in a bed—very nice bed, very nice—everything. Yes, we used condoms, thank you, because I was not born yesterday. He was very—very—mature about everything."

She leaned over to her roommate. "And he isn't married. I asked Boss Man, who has known him for years. No wife—ever."

Paula, looking curious, punched a pillow behind her back. "Tell more! That's not enough—when's he coming back?"

Her voice changed to a whisper. "How do you know he's safe? I mean, how did you decide to take him with you to bury that dog? You—Miss Always Playing it Safe? And the same day you decide to poke him. If I didn't know you so well, I'd swear you were lying to me."

Sara continued to laugh at her roommate. The reason they got along so well, she thought, Paula talked, they both laughed. Usually Paula was the talker, Sara listened. This morning she let Paula ask questions. Sara would eventually answer some of them.

"He says he's coming back. He really is sweet, considerate." She had been serious for a second, before adding, "He didn't know what a sports bra was."

"No!" Paula's eyes opened wider. "This man has been out of circulation for a while!" She crossed her arms and chuckled. "Perfect. You two just may be perfect for each other. Let me look at that necklace again."

Sara held it out for her to see. "He left me here to dress. Good thing cause this room was a mess—that's why all our stuff is thrown behind the bedroom door—then he came back in a cab to take me to work. Well, he had this in a little box."

Her roommate realized Sara had skipped details of the day. "Wait, back up. When did the deed take place? You drove out to the coast, buried the dog, got back here late—I was here until nine o'clock."

Sara pulled her knees to her chin and grinned. "Stinson Beach. He rented a room for the afternoon. One of those little motels out there—you've seen it. Old, white, about eight or nine rooms. Totally unprepared—we stopped in one of the stores." The look on her face said enough. "Beautiful room. He said he had never done that before—checking into a room for a few hours."

Paula snorted. "Oh, Sara. Is this guy for real?" She stretched across the sofa. "I've said for years you were a hopeless romantic. Now you find this guy at a forensic conference! How weird is that?" She reached for the remote and silenced the morning television chatter. "I think we should ask my brother to check him out. He can do one of those searches—see what comes up."

Sara got up. "Do what you want. I think he's for real. And I have to sleep. I've been up way to long. Bed or sofa?"

"You take the bed—you need your rest!" She giggled with her friend. "I take it your Bug Man did not let you sleep after sex?" Sara tossed a pillow from behind the door. "It's about time you did it with someone! I was ready to declare you Virgin Sara." She dug around to find a telephone book, flipped pages and wrote a number on a paper. "Here's my doctor. Tell the girl at the desk you know me. She'll get you in quickly. You gonna need all the protection you can get!" -


	2. Chapter 2

**_Note: Of course we do not own these characters, we just enjoy making up "what-ifs" for their lives outside of the television screen!! Thanks for reading. _**

**Another Few Days Chapter 2**

Over a month passed before he returned to San Francisco; much longer than he had planned. And it had driven him nuts. Just like waiting to exit the airplane. All the tourists and gamblers returning from a losing jaunt crowded the aisle, hauling bags from overhead bins, dragging luggage behind them. He stayed in his seat until the last old guy shuffled passed.

A month—over a month, actually. First it had been the simple act of a phone call. He had called Sara at work six times before he left a message. Two days later, he called back because she had not called him, talked with her boss, and, finally, gotten her home number. From that phone call, the two had talked every day; laughed nearly every morning. He would listen to her talk, asking questions, or waiting for his questions, making her think and process an answer. During the second week of their daily calls, her voice and words becoming as familiar to him as a favorite song, he said he had to see her, immediately, as soon as she had a day off.

She said "no."

In a heartbeat, he went from an emotional high to a crushing low. He heard her giggle. To see her face again, to hold her close, to be with her when she laughed, why would she say no?

The conversation that followed was one of the funniest he had heard in years.

She said, "I have the dot this weekend."

Totally confused, he asked her to repeat her sentence, which she did. "Explain this to me. I'm totally lost. Who or what is the dot?"

Sara had laughed while she explained her personal word for a monthly event. He was happy she could not see his face.

Another week passed and neither could get off for two consecutive days. Now, they had three days, he had reservations for a rental car and a bed and breakfast at a vineyard north of San Francisco. He had directions to her apartment. He was as nervous as a cat in a room of mirrors, trying to think only positive thoughts, to have a plan that would succeed and surpass the first time they were together. He wasn't sure how much he actually remembered and how much he imagined he remembered.

His fortitude had been tested, his persistence finally paying off; if he could calm his beating heart. Clear aisle and easy exit in front of him, at last. He walked out into the waiting area and there she stood, smiling.

"I couldn't wait." She said as she came toward him, a smile spread across her face. Her hands touching him, not giving him time to think, to hesitate, to do anything but react to her lips against his. Nice, he thought.

His request for a specific car had not granted. Instead, they got a small SUV—very much a family vehicle, he thought. As Sara tucked her arm around his waist, he realized that the car did not matter so much. He was happy to be with her.

It took nearly an hour to get to her apartment. He drove around the block—no parking available anywhere near—while she ran to get her own bag. By the time he made one circuit, she was waiting at the curb. He had directions to the vineyard in his hand and passed them to her.

"Tell me where to go."

In a few minutes, she had them on the right route, pushed the sunroof back, and slipped music into the player. Her kind of music, she said, because she did not know what he liked. He did not care.

Grissom could barely keep his eyes on the road, his hands on the wheel, because he wanted to look at her, to touch her in intimate ways.


	3. Chapter 3

**Another Few Days Chapter 3**

"How much longer?" He asked when they left the major highway. She was studying a map.

"Not much farther—maybe thirty minutes. Do you want to eat?" She asked as he slowed to drive through a small collection of stores and businesses.

"We have a dinner reservation for later, so pick a place."

She pointed to a blue and yellow painted café. "Mexican. It's always good. Do you like Mexican food?" She began laughing. "We know so little about each other, Grissom. What have we learned from talking all those hours? I keep calling you by your last name—how weird is that?" She kept talking and he wondered when she breathed. "Your last name fits; does anyone call you Gil? I guess you could call be Sidle, but I think I'm more of a Sara, don't you think so?"

He did not answer until he was holding the door of the car open for her. "I know I like to hear your voice. I enjoy being around you. I want to laugh with you. I want to know everything about you." When she looked at him, he recognized a shift had occurred in her eyes. The brown had darkened creating shadows where sparkle had been just seconds beforehand. "I want you to be happy." With his statement, the sparkle returned in a blink. There was a serious side to this young woman, he thought; one she did not want to unveil to him. "And we have three days for you to tell me everything again. This time in person."

Her giggle lightened her eyes.

They ate a late lunch sitting face-to-face, sharing what each ordered. He told her about his bug collection, racing cockroaches—she laughed so hard she choked on her food.

Their next stop was a small Spanish-style town well-known for its central plaza, adobe houses, and historic buildings. They entered the old mission to see paintings of the California missions and carved wood statues. The two were able to name most of the saints represented in the mission, surprising both that they had some common religious experiences in their past.

"I'm not religious," Sara said.

"I don't think I am. I believe in science and God and I often wish I could pray for an answer." Grissom placed money in a box provided for donations. "I enjoy the stories, the history involved…" He had stopped speaking while he thought of his mother. "My mother is religious."

Sara said no more until they were back on the street. "I gave up on religion years ago." She pushed open the door of a shop, saying "I want a candle."

With their one purchase, they returned to the car and drove into wine country, turning off the main road and seeing vineyards planted in a patchwork of green checkerboard patterns. Bright flowers, olive and palm trees bordered fields and driveways leading to hidden houses and barns. They drove through another small town; Grissom pointed to signs for state parks, gardens, and winery tours, but he was to near their destination to stop today.

He found the turn for the inn. Sara was talking, tracing the map with her finger, remembering a visit to one small town or a state park when she was a child—a school outing or a field trip. He noticed she never mentioned a family.

Her head came up when he left the paved road. A long driveway snaked between two rows of trees. Grape vines grew as far as they could see across rolling hills. In the far distance, several outbuildings—red and white barns—stood in a sloping meadow and tiny white sheep were grazing in the pasture.

Sara became excited about the sheep. "Look, Grissom, sheep. I love sheep. Do you think we can go up there? I'd love to see one up close."

He laughed and nodded. "I think we can see sheep." It had yet to settle in her mind that these three days were for her; whatever she wanted to do, he would find a way.

The curve in the driveway opened up a view to the inn—a Victorian architecture house built in the 1880s, painted a creamy yellow, with porches, turrets and gables, climbing flowers and vines completing a setting of a private retreat. He heard an intake of air and a soft "oh."

"We are here." He announced as he stopped the car.

"I never expected this." She whispered. "I—I am not dressed." She looked down at her jeans.

"Yes, you are. You look beautiful." It was the first intimate words either had said since their kiss in the airport.

Within minutes, they were registered, given keys to the one cottage on the property, and shown to this very private space. Grissom confirmed dinner reservations giving an hour for the meal.

When the employee opened the door, Grissom held him back so Sara entered first, alone. He watched as she walked around the living room, much as she had done in the tiny beachside motel room six weeks ago. Her hands touched antique furniture, pillows, and a bouquet of fresh flowers. Only when she moved into the bedroom did the two men enter and the employee left the couple when Grissom passed a tip to his hand. He followed her into the bedroom watching from the doorway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Another Few Days Chapter 4**

Her hand touched the bright colored coverlet on the bed, opened a drawer at the bedside, turned a light on in the bathroom. She turned back to look at him, her smile spread across her face.

"Nice." She circled the bathroom before returning to the bed. "Very nice. How did you find this place?"

He shrugged and smiled. "I have some secrets—mainly, a good travel agent."

She leaned against the bed post, wrapping an arm around it. "I feel so silly. I bought the candle to make it romantic." Light from windows profiled her silhouette. An area of his brain kicked some mechanism into action—he knew it happened; years later he would be able to recall with certainty the way she stood, the way her hair moved, how very young she looked. And he saw a slight tremble move her chin.

In three steps, he was at her side. "Sara." She turned to him as he wrapped arms around her. "What's wrong?" He felt her intake of air and a shake of her head. He had not expected this; was not sure what he should do or what had caused this quick change. "It's okay," he whispered.

He moved them back into the living room, opened a cabinet filled with drinks, and passed one to her. "Drink this." His hand never left her.

"It's so nice, Grissom. I—I've never been anywhere like this."

His chuckle brought a small smile back to her face. "I've never been here. I picked this place based on a travel agent. If it makes you uncomfortable, we can leave." He touched her face. "I want you to have a good time; if you are happy, I'll be happy."

"I am—what was your word—overwhelmed. Not unhappy. I do want to be here with you." With her words she brought a genuine smile back to her face. "I just didn't expect anything so—so elegant, so…" This time her smile was the one he wanted, lighting up her face, bringing a sparkle into her brown eyes. "So romantic."

"We have a couple of hours before dinner. Let's walk around, see if we can find those sheep."

"No." She did not move. "I have a better idea." She stepped closer, her hands touching his face. "Let's stay here. In the other room there's a bed waiting, just for us." Her lips on his brought them back to what had happened between them weeks earlier.

In minutes, her fingers moved to his shirt. They were in the bedroom and on the king size bed, she giggled, he swore several times before both pairs of shoes were removed. She was not wearing a sports bra this time, but he was just as fascinated by the one she did have on.

Before his pants were off, he remembered what he needed was in his bag by the door. "Don't move." She did move. She pushed the coverlet back, slipped between the cool sheets, and got her own jeans off and on the floor before he returned, tossing multiple colored packets onto the bed. "Select your pleasure, dear!" He was under the sheet with her, wrapping legs around hers, feeling her smooth skin against his.

She held one square packet between her fingers. "We are double protected now." She saw his puzzled look. "I'm on the pill—birth control—now."

Grissom's breathing stopped for thirty seconds. "Before, you weren't?" He had used condoms as a safe sex practice; she had been the one to actually select the package in the small beach store. He remembered thinking that all young women must be taking oral contraceptives now; he remembered all the talk from his college days. She had trusted him that day, more than he had realized.

Her kisses brought him back to the warm body against his and the heat generated between them. Her hands were on his face, in his hair, fingertips tracing lightly in places no one ever touched. His own hands moved along her body, intoxicating to his senses, and surprising him as she responded.

Had this beautiful woman been placed on earth in a predestined plan just for him? Or was their meeting a total accident, a chance encounter? He murmured intimate words as lovers do when bodies move together. A soft gasp let him know she was on the cusp of feminine explosion; he followed with his own plunge into that male state of total release coming so swiftly that for a few seconds, he thought he had been too quick. When he saw her face, when he felt her hard nipples against his chest, felt the warmth of dampness at his groin, he knew their actions had brought them to the same point. The broad smile plastered across her face gave him an affirmative answer.

"Nice." She said with a giggle.

"We are not finished."


	5. Chapter 5

**Another Few Days Chapter 5**

In the next hour, Sara Sidle, age twenty-six and with similar experiences of most women her age, learned how a man makes love to a woman; the difference in having sex and making love, of a man seeking pleasure for himself and one providing certain erotic arousal, satisfaction, and contentment to his partner. When her energy was sapped, when she needed water to quench thirst, he slowed his hands and moved his mouth to hers.

He pulled her against him, every fiber in his body reacting to the soft curl of her form. She fit perfectly, every curve molded to his. Even the way her head rested against his shoulder seemed to be a part of him, something long missing that he had not realized until six weeks ago.

"Are you hungry?"

"Starving." She answered.

He checked his watch. "We can eat in thirty minutes." She stirred to move but he held her in place. "We don't have to hurry."

She rolled to his chest, resting her chin in her palm. "It takes me that long to get ready!"

"It's coming to us. Out there, on the patio. All we have to do is call."

She put her head back on his shoulder and he felt her silent laugh before she said, "You have made plans. I'm impressed."

"You are a beautiful woman, Sara." -

She rolled back to face him. "Oh, Grissom. I'm not beautiful. I am rather plain, too tall, this space between my teeth, my smile is too big, I laugh to much, I talk to much." She kissed him. "I do appreciate you saying that—I do." Her fingertip traced his chin, his lips, and moved to his eyebrow. "You, however, are an enigma. How have you remained unattached? Good-looking man in Las Vegas, smart, educated. Everything a woman looks for and you are single. Explain."

It was his turn to laugh, a low, slow rumble from within his chest. This time, he pulled her into another kiss. "I never met you before."

Later, dinner was presented rather than served on a very private patio outside the bedroom. Sara told Grissom the food was beautiful as well as delicious as she ate everything that was placed before her. A discrete waiter removed plates and brought new courses from somewhere behind plants and flowers surrounding the patio.

Grissom knew he had made the right decisions. She glistened as she talked and ate. He had thought she was beautiful in bed, but watching her in the late sunlight brought natural gentleness to her face. She was intelligent, able to answer a question with a thoughtful reply. If she did not know, her mind worked on possibilities. He could enjoy being around this woman, unlike so many women who thought only of themselves, enjoyed being the center of attention, and demanded notice.

After dinner, they walked around the extended property, seeing and avoiding other guests who gathered on the large house's porch. They had no reason to desire company other than their own. Back in their rooms, placing her things in the closet, Sara heard water running in the bathroom. She knew it was the bathtub—a huge, slipper shaped shiny white one with multiple jets—something she had never experienced.

Grissom appeared in the doorway. "Come, I've got something for you." His hand indicated the bathroom. Bubbles foamed near the top of the tub; her candle was burning near it. His fingertips touched together in a nervous gesture. "I—I will do what you want to do," he said, hesitating, dropping his gaze.

She understood what he was asking and slightly nodded her head. "Yes."

He disappeared while she undressed and stepped into the deep tub. He was back within minutes, turned the lights to low, placed towels within reach, and pulled a padded stool near the tub to sit on.

"I feel like I'm in a movie," she said as she dipped her chin into citrus scented bubbles. "Nice." She laughed, blowing tiny iridescent globes into the air. "We need to find another word."

He chuckled. "Nice is a fine word. Describes this perfectly." He used his toe to turn on the water jets. "This is one fancy tub—don't have anything like this in my place."

"Paula and I don't even have a tub, only a shower." She brought her knees to her chin. "Our apartment is not very big but when she gets married, I'll have it to myself."

She talked about Paula's wedding plans, about her job. He told how he moved to Las Vegas, his plans for the lab. Without voicing actions, both knew when she was ready to leave the tub. He reached for a towel and wrapped it around her—knowing she was not ready for complete exposure even after sharing a bed and having him in the bathroom with her.

By the time he shaved, showered, and returned to the bedroom, Sara was in bed, reading a local tourist magazine, dressed in a white gown, long legs stretched across the bed. He eyed the gown, lifted an eyebrow and asked, "How long are you wearing that?"

She giggled. God, how he loved that sound, he thought. "As long as you wear that towel." She rolled across the bed, sitting up and holding one of the condom packages. "We have lots of these."

He got in the bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Another Few Days Chapter 6**

Sara tried not to be scared. She was usually very skilled at concealing her fear. After the day at the beach with Gil Grissom—Dr. Gil Grissom, she kept reminding herself—Paula had been a real friend, helping her get to a physician who understood young women. It had scared her when Grissom called her. What do you say to someone you've just met and took to bed?

When she answered the phone and his voice asked how she was, the ease of conversation with him returned. That soothing voice, a deep laugh that came slowly, questions that waited for her to answer. And she talked—hanging up she thought she talked too much, giggled too much, but he called back the next morning. Some days he called twice a day.

Paula, of course, enjoyed every minute of what she called a "developing conversation". She bent double laughing into a pillow when Sara told Grissom he could not come for a weekend and proceeded to explain the reason. She could barely breathe by the time Sara hung up the phone.

"You did that on purpose. You knew your old bug man would not know what 'the dot' is! I can't believe you said that to him."

Paula offered to disappear for a weekend so they could be alone in the apartment. Before Sara made the suggestion, Grissom said he had made plans for them to drive out of town. He would pick her up.

However, hours before his arrival, Sara asked a co-worker who lived near the airport for a ride; she showed her official government-issued identification and got to the gate for his flight. He was the last person off the plane, looking almost as frightened as she felt. She hid her fear well.

They laughed and talked all the way to the bed and breakfast. Not just any B and B, she realized, one of those ultra-expensive places. When she saw the sheep, she went a little overboard, but he laughed. She had actually touched a lamb once long ago at a petting zoo and could still remember the softness of the wool.

He had reserved a cottage, away from the house, isolated among a garden of flowers. Truly the prettiest rooms she had ever walked into, filled with antique furniture—he had given the furniture a name, but she did not know much about furniture. The bathroom was almost as large as the bedroom, with a giant tub, a shower the size of her entire bathroom, a bench, two cabinets and sinks, all in a shiny clean white, and towels—she knew no one who had this many towels. She returned to the bedroom to find him watching her and that's when she remembered buying the candle. She did not mean to show her emotions but everything had overwhelmed her ability to hide them.

But he made everything okay—better than that, everything was fine.


	7. Chapter 7

_This short story is 10 chapters--so 3 to go. Enjoy!_

**Another Few Days Chapter 7**

Some time in the night, he woke to gentle strokes tickling his chest. He rolled to find Sara awake and curled against him. He was already aroused, so much so he was embarrassed when her hands found him. Then his hands touched her and he groaned. She was already moving above him; in minutes, her mouth found his and without a word, they quietly satisfied each other, returning to a tangle of legs and arms before sleep provided rest.

Sunlight played along the wall and bedcovers as he watched her sleep, sprawled from his pillow to her arm thrown across half the bed, and toes peeking from underneath the sheet. He smiled. This was more than he had dared to think about. She asked for nothing; she gave him everything. And in the night, he frowned as he thought of his actions; he had not protected her, so caught by surprise, by waking up and finding her ready, already moving to have him inside her body. This was not responsible behavior.

He had been awake for some time before she stirred, rubbing eyes, and stretching. He caught a brief glance of her breast as she pulled the sheet to cover her chest. He passed her a glass of orange juice; he had made coffee and poured juice before returning to the bed.

"You are a good man, Grissom." She sat up as she took the juice.

He found her gown and passed it to her. "Clothes?" he asked with a smile. She pulled it over her head, one arm at a time. When her head reappeared, she was smiling. He wrapped a hand around her free one. "About last night—Sara, I—I don't know what to say. An apology, today, is not what it once was. I owe you much more."

Her caring smile made him weak. She moved to place the juice beside the bed, then came into his arms. "Grissom, I trust you. I really do. From the first day when you answered my questions, I knew, I knew I could trust you. Whatever happens between us, I'll always trust you." She kissed him, deeply, playing her tongue inside his lips, along his teeth, breaking off with giggle. Her hands kept their heads together. "I know I am healthy; I trust you are. You owe me no apology, nothing." She stopped and giggled again. "Except breakfast. I am starving!"

She was unlike any other woman he had ever been with—younger, fifteen years younger than he was. It was not her age that made her different, but some characteristic that stood her apart from others. A puzzle, he thought. He returned her smile. He loved a puzzle.

They made it to breakfast being served in the house--more food than either usually ate in the morning. Grissom told her he had arranged a surprise and watched as her eyes flashed and sparked with anticipation. He refused to explain until they were leaving breakfast when the owner met them at the bottom of the porch steps. Sitting on the driveway was a small two seat utility vehicle, a cooler and a hamper strapped to the back rack.

"Here's a map of the property. Don't run over the livestock or the vines. Otherwise, you can drive anywhere. We are here." The owner pointed to a place on the map. "Here's where the sheep are. It should be a great day—we should have two new lambs by sundown."

Grissom thought he had seen Sara smile as much as possible, but he was wrong. She was literally jumping with delight; her grin was ear to ear. In her excitement, she lost her ability to converse.

She kept saying, "Oh, Grissom." He got behind the wheel and carefully drove along the gravel driveway until it passed several outbuildings, heading in the direction of the sheep pasture and barn.

Grissom, who knew more about wine growing than wine tasting, told her about grapes and how vineyards and wineries started in California—with Franciscans making their sacramental wines and, much later, when other Europeans brought cuttings that loved the soil and the climate. He pointed to roses growing as hedgerows between fields. Sara kept smiling, nearly bouncing out of her seat if her seatbelt had not been fastened.

Crossing a livestock gate, they arrived at the sheep pasture and dozens of white wooly sheep lifted their heads as the utility vehicle slowed to a crawl. Two men worked around the barn and waved at the two who stopped before them.

"Dr. Grissom!" One called out to them. They were expected. A phone call was all Grissom had done to arrange this day trip.

After introductions, the younger of the two men took Sara to the "lamb pen" at the end of the barn. She stepped over the railing to see half a dozen lambs running toward her. The man handed her a large bottle of milk.

"We keep them with their mother's until they reach a certain weight. Then we separate them during the day and supplement with these. They learn quick." He stepped into the pen with her, a bottle in each hand.

The lambs attacked the bottles, the fastest one latching onto the nipple, while others crowded and pushed trying to get to it. Sara fell to her knees, laughing and reaching for a second bottle provided by the other man. Grissom stayed outside the pen and laughed as he watched the feeding frenzy. One by one the lambs were satiated and curled around Sara's legs to sleep. The farm workers left the two; Sara stayed on the ground, Grissom sat on the rail and watched as she fed, petted, and talked to the baby animals.

"Are you a farm girl?" He asked as she picked up one lamb and cradled it as one does a pet.

"No, afraid not." She looked up at him. "I could have been in another life." The warmth and full bellies had the lambs sleeping in furry balls and when she stood, they wiggled until they were all touching. "They sleep like we do, Grissom." She kept smiling as she stepped over the fence, brushing dirt from her pants.

One of the workers appeared at the doorway of the barn. "You two want to watch a birthing?" For the next hour, the two watched as a tiny lamb came into the world and took his first wobbly steps. Grissom watched Sara more than he watched the birthing process. Talking to the men, the two explained the type of work they did in Las Vegas and San Francisco, describing solving crimes using scientific methods.

Before they left, the older man asked if they would stop at another barn, indicating one near the house, before returning to their cottage. He had something to show them they would find interesting.


	8. Chapter 8

**Another Few Days Chapter 8**

Grissom drove the utility truck along farm tracks weaving through vineyards and an apple orchard. They found a pond and stopped to eat their lunch, finding everything they needed inside the basket or cooler, including a blanket for the ground. For several hours, the two ate, talked and napped in the quiet afternoon. When he woke, he found Sara walking around the pond; his first thought was one of loneliness, but changed to solitude as he watched her continue around the pond. Packing up, she reminded him of the request to see "something interesting."

They found the building, one filled with wooden boxes and scales and tractors. The owner and several workers had gathered anticipating the arrival of the crime scientists, as they were introduced. The older man from the sheep barn presented Grissom with a box.

"We found this a couple of months ago. I knew someone would come along who would know what to do with these." He lifted the top from the box.

Sara sucked in air as Grissom bent over for a better look. His fingers closed around a skull resting on hay. Next to it were two metal rings and a handful of smaller bones.

"Fingers, looks adult." Sara said.

Grissom was inspecting the skull turning it in his hands. "Not old, there are fillings in a couple of teeth." He looked at the men. "Have you reported this to anyone? When did you find it?"

"About eight weeks ago—I called the sheriff, said we found some old bones, a skull. He said he'd take a look, sent a deputy who said it was probably so old that no one was looking for him." Grissom's finger tip had found a small hole at the back of the skull. "We saw that too. Doesn't look like this guy did himself in, does it?"

Sara had picked up one of the rings. "I think this is a female." She brushed dirt away from the stone using a wet finger. The other was a small gold band.

Grissom had picked up the other bones, giving a name to several. "Where did you find these?" He could understand why the local sheriff showed little interest. Old bones were always showing up, unmarked graves, forgotten cemeteries, but few would have this odd shaped hole.

The men started out of the barn when Sara asked, "Do you have a screen? An old window screen would work and a small shovel?" Grissom grinned.

They drove the utility trucks out to a new vineyard where plants were just beginning to twine around wires and posts. The men remembered the exact spot because they had moved a wooden post two feet after finding the skull. The ground was still soft and easy to move and between the five people scooping and screening, they dug a large hole in a short while, finding a dozen small bones and one tooth.

"We need to call the sheriff," said Grissom. "This is every indication of a burial, or at least a grave for part of a body." He looked up at Sara. "If he agrees, we can call the crime lab in San Francisco and get them to work on this."

Sara had spread napkins in the back of the vehicle and placed their findings as well as several scoops of soil within each. She listened as the men made plans and smoothed the soil back in place. They were dirty and sweating and the real work had not begun.

"Is there much to go on?" Sara asked as they rode back to the barn. "How do we begin?"

Grissom's hand covered hers. "We have something—and in the future we will have more, facial reconstruction, DNA, nation wide missing persons. It's all coming along, slowly, everyone will have access." He pointed behind them. "And our woman may be among the first." He left her at the cottage while he returned to the barn and packed everything in a larger box. He knew the sheriff would show little interest and would happily pass this find on to the larger crime lab. Tomorrow he would finish up; tonight he had a date.


	9. Chapter 9

**Another Few Days Chapter 9**

He found Sara waiting. They had several hours until dinner would be served at the vineyard. He took a fast shower while she watched from the bath bench, legs crossed and wrapped in a towel. By the time he reached for a towel, her hands were around him, pulling him into the bed, giggling and laughing. She clearly enjoyed what he did and his ability to give her pleasure increased his confidence, made him bolder with his actions; and in turn, she provided him with undeniable contentment. His thoughts ranged from the physical desire he had for her body to the mental challenge of learning about this woman.

They dressed for dinner, a special event provided by the bed and breakfast, an evening meal in the middle of their vineyard for all guests. Sara and Grissom followed tall candles along a pathway to white covered tables, flowers at every chair, and diaphanous white panels of cloth floating like kites above the tables.

"This is very special, Grissom. I've never been anywhere like this."

He brought his arm around her as they walked. "I don't do this either. I wanted something special for us." They were given a table for two and heard soft music playing from some unseen source. As with the previous night, food was placed before them as soon as one course was finished. Glasses were never empty as waiters filled glasses quickly. The placement of tables, the quiet waiters, the subdued lighting, and the music made each person think the dinner was a very private affair. When a few couples began to dance, Sara realized that two dozen people were eating among the vines.

Grissom stood and extended his hand. "Dance with me, please." His arm went around her waist as hers curved across his shoulder. The slow music meant they did not move much and by its end, the two separated only to make their way back to their rooms.

The bed had been turned down; only a lamp provided a soft light. Grissom sat on the bedside and pulled her to him, his head resting between her breasts as he breathed in her fragrance, trying to imprint it into his long term memory. Her hands were in his hair; long fingers combed and lifted locks of his hair.

"How can I leave you, Sara?" His hands touched her skin underneath her shirt. "I don't even know you, yet I've known you all my life."

She pushed him back onto the bed, tugging at his shirt, kissing him, pulling her blouse over her head. She was above him, sitting across his hips, working the buttons on his shirt.

"Wait." This time he held her wrists to stop her actions. He pulled her beside him wrapping a hand around hers. "Let me hold you, Sara. Just like this. Talk to me, please. About anything. I want to hear your voice."

He heard a soft laugh and looked into brown eyes that mirrored a soul so familiar that he could have been looking into his own. These eyes smiled and twinkled reflecting the lamplight and youth—yes, he thought, that's what she had—the unhurried enthusiasm of the young who believed they were years away from making life's tough decisions.

"What can I tell you, Grissom?"

"Tell me about being a child, something you remember. About college. Anything you want to say."

"You silly man. I want to jump your bones and you want to hear about what I did as a kid." She had found that place where her head fit against his shoulder, her hip slipped into a space next to his, her leg wrapped around his.

Grissom laughed. "I'll jump your bones, girl. Talk to me first."

She told him a story—a true one—of being five years old, shopping with her mother in one of those large department stores. She wanted to look at books while her mother shopped—this was before missing children made it dangerous to leave a child alone, and she knew not to talk to strangers. A store clerk found her and when asked if she knew where her mother was, Sara replied no. The woman immediately announced a lost child had been found.

"I was so embarrassed. I was not lost. I knew where I was. My mother laughed about it, but I never wanted to shop in that store after that."

She had talked and he kept his promise. He had fallen in love. This brown eyed girl had made it easy after all these years of ignoring his needs, his emotions. It was easy to be with her, easy to listen to her voice, easy to have her beside or beneath him.

"Move to Vegas, Sara. Live with me."

She giggled and interlaced her legs and arms with his. He heard a deep sigh, but no answer, and in minutes, both were asleep.

_One more chapter in our little story! Enjoy!_


	10. Chapter 10

**Another Few Days Chapter 10**

The next morning, Grissom left her asleep. He grinned as he wrote her a note and noticed how she slept in the center of the bed. He returned later with a basket of food to find her still asleep. He moved a cup of coffee under her nose and watched her nose twitch before her eyes opened.

"Are you sleeping until noon?" He asked. He had talked with the local sheriff, called her boss, and made arrangements with the owner to pack the skull, along with the bones, soil, and rings. He scooted across the bed, bringing food with him. "Here, eat."

She picked up fruit, muffins, juice, and yogurt from the basket. "It's a picnic in bed!"

"We could eat outside."

They moved to the patio and ate while he told her about the box of bones. She listed several methods of identifying age and gender. He reminded her that the county would not pay for any of the work. He suggested that she write everything down with the possibility of presenting her information at a future conference.

Her smiled told him she would get it done. "I'll talk to a few people."

"Send me anything you can't get done. Better yet, bring it to Las Vegas." He said as he cleared their breakfast debris. "We'll have to leave soon." She had slept in his shirt, worn it to the patio for breakfast, and now had her knees pulled up under her. Sexy, he thought. He pulled her up and to the chaise lounge. Twice he attempted to move to the bed and each time, Sara kept him there.

She would kiss him, do things with her hands that brought a response from him; a laugh, a word, and he stayed where he was. In the beginning, he knew the chaise was too small, to narrow, but in this private place, for their eyes only, he made love to her. He was sure she would never call it by this name—not yet, but secretly, he knew what this was. If he never performed this act again, if this should be the last time he was ever with a woman, he knew he had made love to the woman he loved. Certain neither could say the words, he whispered her name again and again.

When they finished, and each one knew days would pass before they would be together again, they lay in the chair he had thought was too small, but in reality, it was the perfect size. Neither wanted to move.

"What time must we leave?" She asked.

She heard a sound near a laugh. "Too soon." He said.

"You have made this so nice—the most beautiful place I've ever stayed."

"Will you come to Vegas?"

"I would like that."

They lay snugged, close and comfortable, delaying what they knew was coming.

Their things gathered and thrown into the rental car, Grissom drove as fast as he dared on the two-lane paved road. He would take her home, leave her for a week or two or longer. She was quiet.

He brought her hand to his lips. "Talk to me, honey." His request made her laugh.

"I'll miss you."

He pulled into some stranger's driveway. He walked around the car and opened her door. "Please get out." He took her hand and helped her from the car, pulling her into a tight hug. "I've looked for you all my life, Sara. I do not want to—to say something I should not say. In a very short time, I've realized…" Her fingers on her lips stopped him.

"Don't say anything else. Please." She placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed him very gently. He did not let her go. "I like us the way we are. I'm happy when we are together. I believe you are happy with me."

"What am I to do?" He asked.

Sara had not moved. "Oh, Grissom, we can do whatever we want." She broke from his arms. "Now, you have to leave soon. I have a few bones to work on."

Inside the car, they talked about the skull, about lambs, about food, but he did not return to what he had wanted to say outside the car. They stopped at her lab and left the box.

There was no parking near her apartment. "I'll get out; you need to catch your flight."

Before letting her out, Grissom asked, "Do you play golf?" She shook her head. "Come to Vegas. I'll teach you." She kissed him. He drove away smiling. This girl was a puzzle and he did love a puzzle.

_Grissom has found a puzzle. We have a few ideas to continue this sequel--so stay tuned for another story!_


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